


The Hunt

by Shamione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Breeding, Choking, Christmas Smut, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Magic, F/M, Magical Pregnancy, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Hermione Granger, POV Third Person, Plot Twists, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Potions, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Twisted, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28200042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: Pine.Fresh. Crisp. Nostalgic.Even with a recent coating of snow, lingering flakes still floating in the air, the scent was unmistakable. Hermione cherished the aroma more so than most others. She supposed cedar might top it, simply because her two favorite men donned the scent so regularly. However, the fresh fragrance of pine would always hold a special place deep within her heart.But this forest and the Austrian pines were, by far, her favorite.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 27
Kudos: 105
Collections: Twistmas 2020 - A Dark Remix Xmas Fest





	The Hunt

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:** The smell of pine
> 
> There are more characters to the story but I don't want to add tags and ruin twists. But with the spirit of Twistmas, it is a dark fic that references some dark themes.
> 
> I would like to thank [ TriDogMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDogMom/pseuds/TriDogMom), [ Starryar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starryar/pseuds/Starryar) for their tireless alpha/beta work on this piece.
> 
> I also drew a little sketch for the story that I've added below as a cover photo. I do hope you enjoy this. It's dark but fun all the same.

Pine.

Fresh. Crisp. Nostalgic.

Even with a recent coating of snow, lingering flakes still floating in the air, the scent was unmistakable. Hermione cherished the aroma more so than most others. She supposed cedar might top it, simply because her two favorite men donned the scent so regularly. However, the fresh fragrance of pine would always hold a special place deep within her heart.

Her deep-rooted appreciation arose well before she'd known the potential she truly possessed—back to a less complicated time of Christmases in Hampstead. Back when she traveled much too far to hack down a pine before jovially decorating it with her _parents_. Even in the summer months, she could revive the mountain pines swaying in the gentle breezes, wafting the sacrosanct scent all around her, weaving itself permanently into her memories.

But this forest was, by far, her favorite.

The woods buried deep within the mountains of Austria were peaceful tonight, just as they had been that faithful Christmas evening ten years prior - on the night they'd won the war. On a blissful twilight when cheers and glee had roared over the sounds of burning wood and heart-wrenching sobs. The battle had been rather arduous, lagging much longer than anyone would have liked. But on that night, as her family had hugged her close, she'd felt on top of the world.

A gentle pop sounded behind her, the subsequent faraway crunching of snow disturbing the forest's tranquility. No doubt, her husband was here to meet her as they always did on the anniversary of their supremacy. They hadn't shared their first kiss that night, wrapped in one another's arms as hues and emblems of triumph painted the sky. Nevertheless, it was the one she treasured the most.

"You should have notified me before you left."

"You knew where I'd be."

"Undoubtedly…" he murmured, gliding his arms low about her middle, nuzzling his face into the curls covering her neck. "I love this place."

"I do, too," she whispered, sinking into the warmth of his arms and the security of his broad chest. "Some of my fondest memories happened here. Winning the war. Confronting the Grangers. I'm certain we even conceived Scorpius here."

Hermione shifted, snow crunching as she turned in her husband's arms. The peace of familiarity settled on her mind as pale blonde locks enveloped her sights. The shelter she felt wrapped in his arms was only overpowered by the sensation of love she felt watching a soft smile widened over his lips.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Her husband and the other half of her heart. The boy who had hated her, reluctantly letting go of disdain as their allegiances converged, relenting so far as to fall in love. The man who had become the father of her child, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy - the best son for which any witch could ask. He rounded out the family she was proud to come home to every night, so she could cuddle close and read with them before a roaring hearth in the Manor library.

Praise their Lord, Draco was still one of the most imposing men Hermione had ever witnessed. Regardless of the scars and the laborious years of battle etching lines of importance on his face, he was beyond compare. The wound on his lips from a wayward spell did nothing to tarnish the radiance of his smile. The still-pink imperfection from his forehead to his cheek, dividing his eyebrow in half, only emphasized the sparkle in his stunning steel blue eyes.

He didn't look much older than the evening they'd married, just months after the war ended. On the eve of his inauguration as Head of the Department for Magical Separation, to be exact. Their wedding had been a timeless, lavish affair, towering flowers of emerald and black adorning too many tables in the gardens of Malfoy Manor.

Her father had been the officiant, almost shedding a tear as the golden ribbons faded into her and Draco's intertwined hands. Friends and family alike had cheered, music and copious amounts of champagne flowing well into dawn. It had been the third most splendid moment of her life, outdid only by their son's birth and the first anniversary of their triumph.

"Hi," Draco murmured, splaying his hands across her back, drawing her in close.

Hermione slid her hands up his chest, encircling them around his neck on a single, smooth, practiced motion. She pushed up onto the tips of her toes, shifting to hover her lips near his. "I've been waiting for you."

A hand threaded through her rebellious curls in a flash, cupping her head as he pushed forward to crush their lips together. He was eager tonight, it seemed, a fervor in his kiss and in the growl that thundered low in his throat as she pulled away and bit his lip.

"He wants you to drink this," Draco declared, a bright grin stretching across his features as he extracted a thin vial from his pocket. "Tonight's the night."

Draco unstoppered the vial as Hermione's heart raced. Tonight. _He_ wanted tonight to be _their_ night. Her throat felt like it closed in sheer exuberance as Draco's hand encircled her neck, lifting her jaw upward toward his. A wide smile parted her lips, and she gleefully welcomed the tingle of the fertility potion coating the lining of her throat. Her whole body ignited in an instant, warmth seeping from every pore as a profound hum of magic echoed behind her lower abdomen.

"I'm so proud of you, Hermione," Draco growled, eyes glistening with the same heat they held every year in this forest. "You've brought immense dignity to the Malfoy name."

"As have you, Draco."

"All thanks to you."

Draco's fingers slid deftly across her jaw then, smoothing a calloused thumb over her cheek. He looked utterly transcendent, desire for her painted in every centimeter of his expression, his eyes searing into hers as his hand traveled down her neck. She leaned into the feeling of him, his warmth, his love, letting her eyes slip shut with anticipation. A moment later, his lips caressed hers feverishly, enticing a contented whimper.

His free hand shifted around her waist, and his firm grasp on her jaw held her lips to his as he walked them backward until he melded her against a tree. Their tree. The tree he regularly pressed her against before his tongue found the apex of her folds.

"The potion means I can't have you as I wish, but I can make you ready for him," Draco growled, thrusting her jaw to the side, and tantalizingly brushed his lips along her jaw. "Do you want that, Hermione? Would you like me to eat your pussy right here?"

"Please, Draco," Hermione murmured before his fingers grasped her cheeks.

Absolute want surged in her core as his lips smoothed firmly against her throat, peppering fiery kisses down the tender column of her neck. His tongue darted across her skin before his teeth sank into it dangerously, making her spine shiver and a moan fill the stillness of the forest.

He didn't waste a moment before flicking his fingers to unclasp her trousers and shove them down her legs. But he liked to tease her. His hand ghosted a trail of heat along her abdomen before hovering over her lower lips. He chuckled huskily as she whined, drawing her lips back to his in a fervent kiss.

Her cunt wept for mercy as he teased her - pleaded to be pet and caressed. Her hips rolled once against his hand, and he laughed darkly, swiftly seizing her mound as a deep moan fell from Hermione's lips. Though, he didn't make her wait long before two firm fingers skimmed between her already potion-slicked folds. He circled slowly before sliding just the tips of two fingers inside her.

She whimpered in frustration when he withdrew his hand to slide them along her lips. He leaned in seconds later to capture her in another fervent snog, the taste of her slit hovering between them.

"I'll never tire of how sweet you taste, _Granger_."

She shuddered, the thick reverberations of his voice washing over her like a wave of arousal. Before she knew it, one leg had abandoned her trousers and knickers as he got on his knees before her. Her body vibrated with pure ecstasy as Draco's firm tongue thrust through her folds, exploring her apex with absolute artistry. He praised her femininity, one finger driving back into her slit, and then a second, as his agile tongue flicked against her clit.

It was genuinely incomparable - his tongue swiping against her cunt as his fingers forced in and out. Hooking inside her with intense vibrations as his tongue smoothed satisfying firmness against her womanhood. Celebrating her.

Hermione couldn't stop her hips from thumping back and forth against his tongue. Or the fingers that gripped his hair desperately. Or his given name humming through her moans as her increasingly lewd cries saturated the forest, her pleasure doubling over on itself.

Several pops of Apparition echoed alongside her cries of pleasure, Hermione's eyes opening to settle on the second man she'd been craving all night. A pair of thin, piercing, beautiful red eyes scanned her figure before lingering where Draco started to pull away. Hermione fisted her hand in blonde locks, drawing him back into her center. The vibrations of dark, needy laughter rippled within her soul as desire stretched further across Tom Riddle's face, doubling her ardent need.

"It appears we nearly missed this year's show," Voldemort's voice rang over the final soft Apparition pops of Death Eaters and Snatchers alike. "My potion has made the Valkyrie too eager."

The crowd's uproarious merriment did little to break the cloud of lust hovering over Hermione. It was impossible when the two men she loved the most were finally together for their yearly display. Tom's feverish gaze only grew as he strode toward her, a heated grin spanning as her mouth split in loud moans.

Draco's moments grew passionate again, deep thrusts of his fingers matching the fervent flicks of his tongue. Tom's hand slid up the center of her torso, wrapping around the sides of her neck with a skill long ago perfected. A pleased, pleading simper spanned Hermione's face instantly, drawing only a dark chuckle behind her whimpered moan.

Tom gripped her jaw, fingers digging titillatingly into the flesh of her cheeks just the way she preferred it. "You should fear me, little girl, not relish this attention. I could make you beg for mercy. Rip you apart from the inside."

"You won't," she hissed with pleasure, savoring the mixture of anger and satisfaction that flashed across his striking features. "You want your heir in my womb. You won't do _anything_ other than me until we've copulated."

A smirk of approval grew across his face. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Valkyrie? You'd like me to hurt you."

"I wish for little else."

Tom leaned in closer, the heat of his breath like a fire over her expanse as he exhaled somewhat shakily near her ear. He only exposed such vulnerability to her and Draco. Before his legions, he was a stoned-faced leader, but he was merely Tom Riddle to her and her husband.

"How does it feel?" He whispered, biting the lobe of her ear tenderly. "To fuck yourself on your husband's tongue before me?"

"Unbelievable," Hermione moaned, bodying tensing with pleasure as Tom's hand closed around her neck.

 _This_ was her favorite tradition - the single most enjoyable moment she anxiously anticipated every year. A ritual born of surprise on the first anniversary of their defeat of the Order but one continued in passion. One where her Lord claimed her as his before all of his followers. Every year, the most immeasurable day of her life, where he and her husband made love to her while everyone watched.

Dumbledore had lied when he'd said Voldemort could never love. He did love. Easily. He loved power. He loved tenacity and strength. He loved intellect, influence, and certitude.

And he loved her.

Or so she told herself every time he congratulated her and Draco on the passing of new regulations. Every time they seized control of a new government, and the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly at the head of Malfoy Manor's dining table. Every time they made love and every time that he joined her and Draco in their bed.

"Back up, Draco," Voldemort snarled, and Hermione whimpered as her slit fell empty. "Don't worry, Valkyrie. He'll be right back on his knees before you. Won't you, Draco?"

"Whenever she wishes, my Lord," Draco grinned, wiping his thumb across his lower lip as a smirk spread them.

"You've got us captivated, my dear," Tom whispered, drawing her somewhat boneless frame off the tree. "No matter what I do, I can't help but think of you. Of your mind. Or your sweet, sweet cunt."

Tom circled her, drawing her back into his chest with the hand enclosed around her throat. His free hand slid along her figure, finding her center quickly with concise circles. Feverish pressure. Tantalizing rhythm. Hermione rocked her hips pleadingly, leaning into the strength of his arms as his fingers dipped into her slit.

He silently nodded in command, and Draco happily sank to his knees once more. Tom's fingers left her only a second before Draco's found their home, sliding to grip her thigh and hoist her leg upward, curling a hand under her knee to hold her upright. Hermione shook on one leg before a waft of magic settled over her frame, offering stability.

Though that stability was almost not sufficient to keep her upright as the firm feel of Tom's cock gliding through her slick fold rippled down her spine. He chuckled darkly, thrillingly, and took only a moment before he thrust into her womanhood with fervor. Hermione gasped out a strangled moan, fingers threading through Draco's hair as he drifted back into her cunt, tongue flicking as his hands gripped her thighs tightly.

It had to be the potion making her pleasure soar because while every time with her two men was enthralling, this was overwhelming. Purely ecstatic. It felt as though charges of electricity waved over her skin, making her eyes flutter closed in unadulterated ecstasy.

Their rhythm thumped in a blissful tandem, a truly surreal feeling. Hermione keened, arching her back as Tom's hand released her throat, lacing through her arms behind her back. Hermione couldn't help the loud moans tearing from her throat as his hard cock pushed against her most pleasurable wall again and again.

"How does it feel to know they all wish to be you?" Tom snarled, but the heat in his voice was lust, not anger. "With my cock buried deep inside them? With my Second sucking their clits and cocks?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open once more, landing on a group of people wholly transfixed with the sight before them.

Several Snatchers stood with their cocks in their hands, pumping furiously at the sight of her love. Werewolves sat in their chains, eyes glued to her slit hungrily, undoubtedly smelling the pheromones emanating from her core. Death Eaters stood riveted, yearning to be in her spot but settling for the company of their significant others or their mudblood slaves to soothe their evident need.

Even Bellatrix was captivated, pumping her husband's cock as two feet wriggled from underneath her skirt, no doubt belonging to Pansy Parkinson. All were regarding her. All watching enviously as Voldemort's thick manhood slammed into her as her lewd moans burst past her lips when Draco nibbled her clit.

"Powerful," Hermione cried, letting her ecstasy echo throughout the forest. "Please, my Lord, please! Please fuck me harder!"

Tom's movements grew punishing then, but her cunt welcomed it, pleaded for more. Hermione cried out for the force of his hips into hers. She could feel an overwhelming tingle of sheer ecstasy invading her bones as he pumped his hips and her husband worshipped her clit.

Gods, their togetherness was purely magnificent - intense and charged with the same fervor that traced their every interaction. They knew perfectly how to work her body to make her world unravel. Exactly how to move to make her soul shatter with absolute rapture.

They never took long to bring her to the edge, teasing her before thrusting her off a cliff into the abysses of desire. Today, it was even quicker. The potion, expertly brewed by a man Hermione loved more than anything else, made her entire body seethe with pleasure as she shook, quacking with the throes of her orgasm.

Tom's hands moved suddenly, Draco's replacing them to keep her leg high as Tom's shifted against the heat of her abdomen. The magic of the fertility potion threatened to overwhelm her, but her fluttering walls and warmth drew a quiet groan from Tom's lips as he thrust three deliberate times. His movements stilled, cock thumping as he spilled himself inside her. He held her firmly against himself, hands kneading her abdomen as if that would do something to help his seed take hold. Suddenly, she was weeping, a broad smile on her face as her hands settled over his, lacing their fingers.

She lowered her leg slowly, sinking into Tom and the heat of his hands that seemed to make her womanhood sing. He leaned into her neck, kissing softer than anyone would ever expect. "Do have a brilliant hunt, my good girl," he whispered so only she could hear. "Make my heir's first night a proud one."

With one final kiss, his hands were replaced with Draco's arms as Hermione fell bonelessly into her husband. Tom huffed a soft approval as all of those around bowed their heads, remaining so as Tom Riddle Apparated away. It wasn't until Hermione's breathes had evened, and she'd pulled her trousers back on, did Bellatrix's head rise.

"The potion, Bella," Hermione pronounced, nestling back into her husband's warmth.

The raven-colored, curly-haired witch only bowed low, cackling as she pulled several deep blue, shimmering vials from her pockets. A soft murmur broke amongst the crowd as they righted, some eyes still lingering on Hermione, though most turned to chat amongst themselves.

"Say, Parkinson," Hermione growled, beckoning the young witch forward. She looked stunned for a moment, though an eager elation spread over her expression as she scurried forward. "I saw Bellatrix's face when you were below her skirt. I'll be sure to remember that if you're ever keen enough to put those skills to work elsewhere."

The power-hungry witch grinned delightedly as Draco chuckled, enclosing his arms around Hermione's middle further. "You've caught her attention, Pans."

"I…" Pansy stammered urgently. "Oh gods, I -"

A raucous round of screams ripped through the air then, though they only startled Pansy. It was her first hunt, but Hermione knew the howls well. She had invented the potion to force their change, after all, and testing had taken some time - not to mention the lives of numerous wolves from her pack. She'd killed Greyback long ago, the worthless scum. He'd refused her authority before his mob and their feeble minds. He'd slumped lifeless just moments later, shocked howls falling silent with the flick of her wand. She'd become their Alpha that day.

True, they were more lively during a genuine full moon hunt, but the potion did the trick when the moon wasn't at its absolute brightest. Agonizing screams echoed off the bark around the group as the brew forced their shift, but Hermione found herself giddy at the sound. It meant in mere minutes that the hunt would begin.

Five distinct pops sounded before Minister for Magic Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa, Hermione's father Severus Snape, and Harry Potter himself, beside his wife Ginny, appeared. Tom had made it home then, sending along the final five people to round out the evening's games. The group looked radiant in the moonlight reflected off the snow-covered ground. Just as elegant and proper as ever, donning hunting gear that matched her own.

Hermione smiled sincerely, slipping from Draco's hold into her father's hug. A father she hadn't known she'd had until a wayward spell slammed into her torso in the Hall of Prophecies her fifth year, shattering her entire world. A deep-seated concealment spell had faded when her heart had stopped, her moment of death snatched from the Reaper's hands by her best friend, Harry.

A best friend who turned out to be her half-brother. Hermione was born on 19 September '79 to father Severus Snape and mother, Lily Potter _nee_ Evans. Her mother had immediately known that she wasn't a Potter but had made it official on her birth records nonetheless. Severus only found out of her existence through a note, sent with an unknown owl that didn't stay for a response.

Less than a year later, Harry had been born, with him a prophecy. A prediction, twisted by a manipulative maniac, that led to Tom's attempted murder of a child. Dumbledore had snatched her from her crib that night, on Lily's request. After placing Harry with the awful Dursleys, he'd put her in the care of Helen and John Granger - a witch and wizard who had hidden their magic to raise her as a Muggle. Needless to say, they'd been early victims of Hermione's hunt.

Finding out her entire life had been a lie was fairly jarring, but watching the proud look on her _birth_ _father's_ face as she'd taken the Mark had almost made up for it. She hadn't wasted much time turning her back on the light as her relationship with Severus had flourished in her sixth year. They'd lied to her and raised her as something she wasn't.

Harry, however, had taken a bit more convincing. Though, as the web of lives around Dumbledore had shattered, so had the allegiances he'd built. Even a few Weasley's had turned to the _Dark_ , as they'd been labeled. War prevailed for five years after Draco's achievement in eliminating Dumbledore, countless souls dying in the name of a lie to keep an old, psychotic man from Azkaban. But they'd won ten years ago on this day, bringing an end to the war and a start to their empire.

"Hermione, dear. Please let me be the first to congratulate you," Narcissa cooed with a beaming grin, rubbing her hand lovingly across Hermione's stomach. "What an honor our Lord had bestowed upon you. Upon our family."

"Thank you, mum."

"You've done our lineage proud," Lucius offered, stone-faced, but she knew he was enchanted.

"Scorpius?" Draco sought.

"Sleeping soundly. He asked for you both, but we told him how important tonight was."

"He'll be half-brother to the most powerful child in existence," Harry grinned, pulling Hermione into a crushing hug.

"The change is complete, Valkyrie," a faceless Snatcher announced, head bowed low as he approached.

Hermione nodded, dismissing the Snatcher and turning back toward the scene she'd been surveying before her husband's arrival. A scene that so regularly brought her joy. Yes, pine trees meant a great deal to her, but the scenes of her triumph only made them better.

Ron Weasley, the ultimate blood traitor, still hung from the tree branch, his rotting corpse a reminder of their victory. He'd been the largest driving force behind the Order's resurgence years after Dumbledore's death, alongside his family and a handful of others. The two oldest red-headed blood traitor's heads still stood on pikes below him as a symbol of their refusal to conform. Of their acceptance of a false truth.

Though, the most enjoyable sight of the night was the two kneeling figures shivering in the snow before Ron's resting place. Tonight would be a memorable hunt. They'd finally found the Weasley patriarch and matriarch, and Ginny would get her chance at resolution tonight.

Hermione stepped around the two thin, ragged Weasleys, pulling off the hoods as they shivered. The red, splotchy skin on the Weasley matriarch's face was like a spur to Hermione's resolve. And when her face crumpled further, eyes gluing to the dangling form of her most-forgotten son, her desperate, fabric-muffled cry waved excitement through the group.

Arthur Weasley was a bit more reserved, though Hermione could see the disdain painted in his eyes and the wrinkles of his snarled lips.

"You've hidden very well for a very long time," Hermione began, pulling out her wand to release the fabric gags. "But you should have known you wouldn't escape us forever."

"Fuck you," Arthur spat. "Traitor! Murderer!"

"I'm not the traitor nor the murder between us," Hermione laughed mercilessly, followed by cackles of the group around her.

Hermione nodded, and Ginny stepped forward slowly, inhaling once to calm herself before rounding her parents. Hermione set a hand on her shoulder, offering support as Ginny towered over the two people she hasn't know if she'd been able to face.

"Gi… Ginny?!" Molly Weasley muttered, voice laced with thick tears and crushed hope.

"Molly," Ginny murmured, a blank expression on her face.

"You… No, you… you died. I saw -"

"No!" Ginny shouted. "You saw nothing. You left me to die that day! You murdered your _own_ son and left your only daughter to die!" Ginny roared. "But thankfully, Harry was there. Harry _knew_. Harry opened my eyes to _everything_ you did."

"We… we did what we had to, Ginny!"

Ginny withdrew her wand quickly, training it upon her mother's face. "No more from either of you. Tonight is _my_ night. I won't let you ruin this for me. You've thirty minutes to run. Apparition and Patronuses won't work. Good luck."

Hermione patted Ginny proudly on the shoulder, throwing two nearly tattered wands onto the ground before the Weasleys. It wasn't as fun to hunt muggles, so they'd learned during the Granger's hunt, so they allotted their prey a little magic.

Wrapping her arm around Ginny's shoulder, Hermione guided her back to the group. Harry drew the nearly weeping redhead into his arms as Hermione flicked her wand, releasing the bindings of the frail Weasleys on the ground. They hesitated a moment but rose quickly, snatching wands from the ground and turning to try and fire spells. Though, no bright light flashed.

"Predictable," Draco laughed, followed by the group's boisterous mirth. "The wands won't work for the next thirty minutes. So, I suggest you run before Ginny changes her mind and ends this here."

Molly looked as though her entire soul had ruptured, shaking as she cried. Though, Arthur's resolve still seemed to be hanging on by a thread as he grabbed his wife's shoulder and spun her, dragging her by the hand into the dark depths of the forest.

When their figures disappeared into the shadows, Hermione inhaled, a determination tracing her excitement. She couldn't wait. Nine years of the hunt, and she'd never tire of the frantic scramble of their prey crunching through the snow as they ran. Or the howls of the werewolves as their senses ignited.

Or the thrill of echoed screams. Or the metallic shine of blood on snow.

Or the fresh scent of pine.


End file.
